


Ecstacy

by MidoriEyes



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Magic, One Shot, and bull feels left out, dorian gets all hot and bothered without bull, ecstacy, midorieyes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-16
Updated: 2015-10-16
Packaged: 2018-04-26 14:20:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,532
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5008054
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MidoriEyes/pseuds/MidoriEyes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mages have this annual thing called the “awakening” where they drain themselves of old mana and replace it all with new mana. Dorian begins this grueling procedure, and the Bull is there to help see him through. Turns out, the replenishment of magic can be quite a pleasurable process…</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ecstacy

**Author's Note:**

> Little one-shot I posted on tumblr. :) I like the idea of Bull being enticed by magic for once, particularly if it makes Dorian have spiritual orgasms, so to speak.

The sounds of distant magic rattled Bull’s horns as he descended the stairs to Skyhold’s dungeon. An unmistakeable crack of thunder roared through the tunnel, followed shortly by something that pulsed against the prison door only half a dozen steps from where he was. It was like being inside a gigantic war drum, but, in this case, there was no war to be had, and the drumming held no threat when it was sounded by friend and resident Tevinter mage, Dorian Pavus.

Bull pushed open the rickety door, peering in to make sure the next wave of magic wasn’t aimed in his general direction, and found that whatever force was keeping the whole of Skyhold away from this vicinity was happening in the prison beyond this one. With no one around to first relay his name and reason for visiting, Bull took a few long strides towards the outward cells and entered with the same amount of caution he’d used before.

The first thing he saw was a series of sparks erupting out of the yawning chasm that opened Skyhold’s dungeon to far more light than was meant to ever filter through. At one point, there had been a complete wall or gate of some kind that allowed only the barest of air circulation into the cells, but that had long been eroded, or destroyed, before the Inquisition had settled. Not that a possible prison break would’ve done any good when you were faced with a lethal drop off the scarcely held together walkway. The view from here, and whatever freedom it enticed (how free could a criminal be when fleeing into a frozen tundra with no aid other than your enemy for miles on end), would remain unattainable, unless a working platform and pulley system were put in place.

To his left is where Bull found the spellcaster in question, positioned at the very edge of the ruined walkway, with his arms tracing a familiar pattern and robes swaying with every movement. The absence of staff was immediately noticeable, but it didn’t seem to hinder the extravagance with which Dorian typically colored his attacks. If there were a group of Venatori to actually unleash this barrage of magic upon, they would properly shit their smalls, still.

“Didn’t think the guard would clear out, too,” Bull mumbled, mostly to himself, but loud enough so that he could be heard in case Dorian had half a mind outside of his erratic dance.

It was inevitable, though, that Dorian would startle so badly, his last fire spell veered off course and grazed the large archway that framed Skyhold’s picturesque view of the mountains. Bull’s eyebrow shot up, grateful that he hadn’t been the one to wear that scorch mark now blackening the stone. A derisive snort caught his attention once more, and he caught a glimpse of the obvious look Dorian had given him. The mage had recovered his poise as quickly as it had left him. “If we even had any prisoners to keep vigil over, I think I’d be well and capable enough to oversee them, wouldn’t you agree?”

“Especially after putting on a show like that.”

“Oh, I’m quite far from being done, unfortunately,” Dorian said as he thrust his hands out and let loose a searing column of inferno, all in a terribly business-casual manner. It passed straight through the arch with no trouble this time around.

“Yeah, I heard about it from the boss. You do this every year, huh?”

“More or less.” Another flash of lightning whiplashed the steadily melting snow some yards away from their wooden precipice. “As of late, I hadn’t the time to start, that is until our fair Inquisitor decided to grant us a week long holiday from all that end of the world nonsense.”

Bull gave an impressed whistle at the missiles of fire that seemed to materialize from Dorian’s chest and, without a premeditated target to guide them home, converged into a small explosion midair. He never really got the chance to see how his partner’s spells were performed while they were busy hacking away at demons every five seconds. “And you picked the dungeons because it offers the least amount of collateral damage.”

Dorian snorted. “That, and we won’t have angry mobs gathering at the training grounds, calling for the head of that ‘crazy 'Vint magister who has finally hurled himself off the deep end, just as we’ve always anticipated’.”

“Guess that’s why I can’t find you when you’re off venting somewhere.”

“Possibly.” More often than not, however, Bull would find Dorian close at hand, if the bite marks and scratches across his skin were anything to go by. To be honest, both methods were extremely helpful in keeping the mage level-headed, but only one ended up satisfying both parties.

“So, how long do you have to do this for?” Bull asked, daring to shorten the distance between them. The heat of Dorian’s growing fireball was decidely more pleasant than the chill of mountain air.

“Just until I deplete most of my mana, and the rune will do the rest.”

Bull eyed the spot on Dorian’s exposed shoulder and hummed, curious. It was a solid, black symbol consisting of a combination of star bursts and rigid lines - probably some ancient character from another language, Bull assumed - and while it looked like a simple inking for aesthetic purposes, the underlying magic was definitely present. Similar marks under the Qun were meant to keep magic suppressed within its vessel, but this one had been tampered with and modified by the 'Vints themselves as a tool for annually cleaning out one’s mana, according to the boss.

It was little known trivia that a mage’s mana wasn’t simply replenished after a period of disuse, but recycled until it reached full power once more. After a while, the mana becomes thin and brittle, and being stretched out over the many battles Dorian had participated in was starting to run his own supply ragged around the edges, even if it didn’t show. Left unchecked, the act of casting could become unstable. Nothing life-threatening to the user, but it could affect one’s aim, or the longevity of ranged attacks. In another instance, if a mage utilizes one element more than the other, say fire over ice, for example, it would gradually become harder to call upon anything to do with ice. Basically, this 'cleansing’ would fine tune a mage back to their former prowess. It was essentially no different than polishing and sharpening your weapon every now and then, but with magic. That was how the Bull made sense of it, anyway.

“It doesn’t freak you out, having that thing put a lock on your magic?”

Dorian rolled his neck until he heard a pop. “It’s a necessary step, one that I’m well acquainted with after having done this most of my life, or at least since my father trusted I wouldn’t faint from overexerting myself. Truthfully, it does more than just seal my magic. It sucks it completely dry. It’s the one time a year where I feel like, well, everyone else, I suppose.”

“How horrible that must be for you,” Bull quipped, emphasizing the humor in his voice.

“It’s certainly not ideal, no, but well worth the results. I’ll be Dorian reborn; as charming as ever, but with a shiny new coat of paint.”

Bull chuckled at the allegory. “Can’t say I’m complaining.”

“I would hope not. You’re the one who gets the pleasure of taking this thing off for me when I’m done.”

“Oh?”

“Well, you can’t expect a rune forbidding magic to be removed by a mage of all people, can you? I had to have Dagna help me put this on in the first place. And, since what happens afterwards is a bit, how shall I put it… intimate,” Dorian drawled, “I’d rather you be my witness, if you’re willing.”

The Bull was all about intimacy in the realm of Dorian thereof, so it didn’t take much thinking on his part to nod and accept. “Sure. As long as you don’t suddenly explode and take us all down with you.”

“I’d like to think I have a little more self-control than that, darling, particularly when it comes to bodily urges.” Dorian matched Bull’s knowing smirk and put his routine on hold to feel the qunari’s lips against his own. It warmed him after being out in the open air for so long, and while the alluring prospect of an afternoon tumble in the empty cells nearby was tempting, magic couldn’t run out on its own. After a time, he pulled back and whispered words of thanks against his companion’s scarred lips, regrettably continuing the task of exhausting himself into a stupor.

–

Dorian had managed to whittle his reserves down to the last pinch of mana still lingering in his fingertips. It would take the better part of the evening and tomorrow for the rune to burn out what remained, and, in the meantime, the mage was content to take it easy and keep to his little nook in the tower. The Inquisitor brought him snacks every once in a while, mostly nuts or whatever finger foods were easy to pilfer from the kitchens, which helped supply him with some energy to replace the amount he’d lose from his magical fasting. It wouldn’t do anyone an ounce of good for Dorian to fall unconscious over the second floor railing and onto Solas’ carefully organized stacks of research.

Bull’s contribution to the process was still a little ways off, but he found himself offering comfort through times when the lack of Dorian’s ever-present magic would ring hollow in his bones and leave him with an itch too deep to scratch. The feeling would be temporarily chased away by enough distraction, whether that entailed stuffing his nose in the few good books of Skyhold’s quaint (a painfully kind descriptor by Dorian’s standards) library, or stuffing his ass full of qunari cock. Luckily, his performance in that area wasn’t deterred in the slightest.

After his third day as a faux-Soporati, Dorian decided he’d had enough of such a dull lifestyle, and beckoned the Bull to his quarters for their mystery rendezvous. They were seated on the edge of the bed, both a bit nervous, anticipations rising.

Bull had no idea what to expect once he removed the rune from Dorian’s shoulder, if the bewitching, yet disturbingly vague, way the mage had described it was any indication. He never liked going head first into the unknown, especially when it involved magic, or demons. He was fairly certain the latter wouldn’t be a problem, although Dorian’s fussing wasn’t very reassuring of that notion.

“Soooo…” Bull started, patting a musical beat against his knees in a poor attempt to lighten the thick atmosphere that had accumulated. “How do we go about this? I wipe this gobbledygook off and then, what,  _poof?_ ” He made a blooming motion with his hands. “You got your magic back?”

“If you want the abridged version of it, yes,” Dorian met his partner’s good humor with a smile, however small. “Though, the effect won’t be quite so instant, I’m afraid. There will be a brief period where absolutely nothing happens, and then a fresh batch of mana will come crashing down on me like a tidal wave. Think of the Storm Coast, but less wet, and contained in one, handsome package.

"That sounds… safe,” Bull replied with a grimace.

“Oh, it’s perfectly kosher. That’s the whole point of a cleansing. But, in that case, I suppose you’re wondering why I’ve requested your supervision in this matter.”

Bull shrugged. “It would be nice to know.”

“Well,” Dorian folded his hands together, going through the explanation in his head before fumbling it out into words, “I’ve heard stories - rumors, more like - that there can be some ramifications during the 'reawakening’; that’s what they call it in Tevinter. Always one notch above the dramatic, you see.” He was stalling now, but Bull’s steady gaze kept him from veering off too far. He continued. “Apparently, some mages experience a bit of sickness from the rush, which doesn’t sound so bad, all things considered, but, on the other hand, there’s the occasional account where a mage will keel over from a sudden brain aneurysm.” No visible response from the Bull other than a slightly higher brow line. “Granted, for this to occur, one has to have really screwed the nug in the health department, or used a foul rune that, rather than draining your mana, taints the body with a substance tricking you into thinking your magic is long gone, when really it’s being compressed into a barely traceable form that it’s not supposed to take. Once that rune is removed, it will be like a spring punching through the mattress, except you die from it.”

A pregnant pause. Bull leaned forward, elbows on his thighs, and steepled his fingers in contemplation. “And you didn’t think any of this information would be important enough to tell me beforehand?”

“Perhaps, but there shouldn’t be any cause for concern. I’ve used this same rune for cleansing ever since my youth, and it hasn’t failed me yet. As far as health goes, I’m sure you already know how physically capable I am.”

At least that much was true. “Alright, alright. So under normal circumstances, this should work, and you won’t go all rag doll on me halfway through?”

“Precisely. I’m merely taking precaution.”

“And there’s nothing else you’ve neglected to tell me that might result in certain life-altering consequences?”

“If there are any more than that, I wouldn’t know them, I promise you.” That didn’t make the Bull feel much better.

“Okay. Is there a way you can, I don’t know… shut it off in case it gets to be too much?”

Dorian pursed his lips and slowly shook his head. “There’s no watch word when it comes to magic, at least not for this.”

“So, once that rune’s gone, you’re slave to whatever shit your body puts you through?”

“You make it sound so grim, my dear Bull,” he chuckled. “I’m not 'slave’ to anything. Need I remind you that I’m an Altus. I have more control over my magic than most mages, and you can bet I’ll be using those skills to make sure all of my mana goes exactly where it needs to. Now, can we get on with it? This whole being-a-normal-person thing was only fun for the first minute and a half.”

Bull couldn’t argue with Dorian after he became impatient. It would be like trying to draw water from a dried up well that only ran two feet deep to begin with. Still, he took his time dipping the washcloth Dorian had given him into a bowl of strong smelling liquid meant for dispelling hand-drawn runes, making sure it was rung out well enough before bringing it to his lover’s honeyed skin. His hesitation must have shown, because Dorian breathed his name in that same soothing tone he’d use before leaving for a long mission with the Inquisitor.

“It’ll be fine, amatus.”

They’d only recently started calling each other by their “special” nicknames. It was taking some time to get used to, not because they were new, but the weight of them were significantly heavier on their tongues. They both knew what it implied and what it could develop into, if it hadn’t already. Outwardly acknowledging the subject wasn’t something either one of them were ready to confront, and for now that was fine.

_It’ll be fine._

Bull gently scrubbed off the intricate mark, and they waited.

The first minute or two showed no change, which Dorian had said as much. He’d moved back towards the middle of the bed as a precaution, however. Being surrounded by a soft surface seemed like a good idea for this type of ritual. Bull wanted to speak, to ask how he was feeling, to see if he’d missed a spot on his shoulder where a speck of the rune might still reside, but Dorian beat him to it.

“Nothing yet. Won’t be long now tho- _OOH!!”_  The curve of Dorian’s back arched like a bow, so sharply that it startled Bull into almost doing the same thing. The mage looked like he’d taken his first breath into the waking world; head thrown back, mouth hanging open, chest rising and falling in slow heaves. And then, Dorian laughed. “Speak of the devil!”

“You alright, big guy?” Bull asked, worry tingeing his features. “Do I need to get my axe?”

“I’m not being p-possessed, you lump,” he stuttered. “J-just… give it some time. It’ll p… pass.”

Bull did as he was told and observed: Dorian placing his hands on either side of himself, fingertips pressing into the sheets, as if the mage were leaching lifeforce from the bed itself. Every few seconds, when a swell of new mana flooded Dorian’s being, his body would jolt up from where it rested on his folded legs, shudder, and then ease back down. A light sheen of sweat started to coat Dorian’s neck and face, and all the while those breathless gasps would pull from throat-deep, in tandem with his bobbing adam’s apple.

Bull couldn’t decide whether he was aroused or terrified. Or terrifyingly aroused.

This went on for a while. Between the labored breathing, fits of trembling, and the obvious amount of euphoria Dorian was experiencing during this “reawakening”, Bull barely registered the pressure that had slipped into his left palm. He glanced down to find the mage’s hand in his own, warm and soft, squeezing with every pulse that surged through his body. He squeezed back. Indeed, it was turning out to be a very intimate procedure. No wonder he’d asked the Bull to be his witness.

Dorian’s breath hitched at the peak of his awakening, melting into a satisfied moan that allowed the constant roll of neo magic to calm at last. He opened his eyes to the torn ceiling and blinked a couple of times before letting his muscles relax into a post-orgasmic slump, a sight that his larger lover was overly familiar with.

Dorian looked utterly wrecked.

“Well.  _That_  was something,” he sighed, finally meeting Bull ’s eye after what felt like years. His mirthful smile wavered when he saw the slack-jawed expression directed at him. “Are you quite alright, Bull?” The qunari didn’t answer right away, opting for making an awkward series of gestures between the two of them.

“… Are you sure you didn’t need me involved in any of that just now?”

“Whatever do you mean?” Dorian asked, genuinely confused for once instead of exhibiting his usual coyness.

“I’m just saying, you looked like you were really enjoying yourself, Dorian. I don’t often get to see you like that if you’re not underneath me.”

It took a minute for Dorian to understand what was being insinuated, but the flush of color across his cheekbones became obvious enough to warrant a laugh from the Bull. “Y-you! How crass! I wasn’t… it didn’t… I just–”

“Peace, kadan,” Bull held his hands up in surrender to his partner’s babbling tirade. “I just wasn’t expecting it is all. Besides, I’ve always liked watching you _come_  undone. Heh. You get it? 'Cuz… yeeeeah.”

If Dorian’s eyes could roll farther into his head he’d be blind. “I need a drink.”

“Ha! I’ll bet you do. That shit took a lot out of you, eh?” Bull slapped Dorian’s back.

_“Ahhhh!”_

…

…

“Um.”

Dorian was just as speechless, but the need to explain drove him from thought. “It’s not what you think, I swear it.”

“Riiiight.” The Bull did not sound convinced whatsoever.

“It’s like this: the reawakening makes you rather… sensitive once it’s complete. My body doesn’t quite know what to make of all this change so quickly, so it kind of just pricks at my skin, like little goosebumps. The only difference is that each goosebump is like a raw, exposed nerve. It should settle down within a day or two.”

Dorian’s voice had became quieter the more he watched Bull’s reaction. The developing crinkles around the corner of his good eye and the white of his teeth suddenly on full display were not a comfort toward whatever devious ideas were concocting in that barbarian’s thick skull.

“Interesting…”

“Yes. I shouldn’t have told you that.”

The realization had come too late, however, for Bull was on him like a bee to honey before he could even reopen his mouth, which was otherwise occupied anyway, for the moment.

Every touch, every caress, every brush against Dorian’s pliant form was sending a bolt of electricity through his system that forced him to writhe and voice his involuntary approval. Bull relished the small tremors, smothering his face into Dorian’s neck and letting his nose trace a slow path towards his ear.

“Oh, this is gonna be good,” Bull purred.

“Well,” Dorian managed between huffs as he clung to the sizeable chest at his disposal, “if I had to pass out at any point in time during this whole thing, I guess this would be the preferable way to– _haaaahhhkaffas_. _..!”_


End file.
